11. Nellie
ELEVEN
NELLIE
Enviro Guy
What’s your secret desire?
I stare down at my phone, my hand pausing mid-book scan. I’d woken up to a good morning text from Teddy, and then he’d sent a picture of a tree his team would be dismantling about an hour later. Other than that we haven’t talked much today, which was to be expected with both of us returning to work. Still, despite the expectation, I find myself missing him more than I should.
Um… What kind of desire are we talking about here?
Get your head out of the gutter, LG. We’re taking things slow, remember?
I wanna know what you’d love to do if given the chance to do it… something you’d be fine telling your pa rents about.
My current secret desires, the ones I keep under lock and key inside my mind, all involve Teddy, and because I had to go and state I wanted to take things slow, that is where they will remain for the foreseeable future. And I’m glad for that because I do want to take things slowly. He's just making it hard by being all nice and sweet, and his lips are all soft and pillowy and gloriously demanding.
“Cornelia, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow at one. Would you be able to cover the phones while I’m out?” my boss asks, walking up to the counter and not noticing that I’ve been scanning the same book for the last minute while I’m lost in thought.
“Yeah, sure, absolutely,” I stammer, putting the book on top of the to-shelve pile. The library doesn’t exactly have a busy phone line so I doubt she even needs to ask me. Sometimes I think she does this to give me a glimpse into the life of a small-town librarian. I love it here, but this isn’t what I want for my future. I don’t think it is, anyway.
When she heads back to her office, I pick my phone back out and reply.
I would love to have a mobile library. One that travels to remote areas that don’t have funding for a permanent library.
That’s really cool.
What about yours?
I watch my phone for a few minutes, but no answer comes. When a reply still hasn’t arrived by the end of the day, I send one more text before heading home.
Is it that embarrassing ?
By the time I pull into the driveway at home, there is a reply and I feel the nervous bubbles in my stomach ease.
I’m so sorry I got home and showered then laid down and passed out. Hauling logs and branches all day is exhausting.
Who could have guessed?
My secret desire is to travel around the world.
Where would you start?
Probably fly to New Zealand then make my way west.
So mine is to drive a van of books about three hours away from my home and yours takes a three-day journey.
Don’t sell your desire short. You’ll share ways for people to escape their realities. Far more accessible ways.
Is that why you want to travel, to escape your reality?
Dots appear and then vanish. I can almost see him typing something then erasing it, and I can’t help wondering what he is trying to sort out. Assuming that he was hiding something seems like a good way to drive myself mad so I refuse to let my mind wander there.
Just a change of scenery for a while would be nice.
Change from what? When was the last time he had gone somewhere beyond my hometown or the city for a game? He’d commuted to university so hadn’t lived in the dorms or an apartment.
Where’s the farthest you’ve been?
When I was about 10 we drove out to British Columbia to visit my mom’s family. That’s the last time I went anywhere interesting.
So you’re long overdue.
Sure am.
In one of our late-night talks, I’d told him about trips I’d gone on as a kid. Usually they revolved around Mom or Dad’s work, but I don’t remember them actively working on any of those trips. They always did feel like a proper getaway, even if I came home with more bird experiences than anything else. I can’t imagine going so long without a real trip. But I guess if you don’t do it all the time, it’s not something you miss. Still, I want him to get the chance to explore the world, even if I have to stay here.
I’m going to turn in. Hopefully, in a few days, I’ll have a routine and won’t immediately want to go to bed when I get home.
The next morning I wake up to a text from Teddy with a timestamp of two a.m.
I didn’t even ask how your day was, I’m a terrible person.
Did you wake up to ask me that?
His response is a guilty-looking emoji.
I hope you at least slept well. Wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the job and being crushed by a tree.
Are you working at the library today?
I am. I start at 9.
By the time I leave for work, he hasn’t responded, and again I try not to let that bother me. He’s at work, work that requires his full attention and both hands. But when I pull up to the library, there is a large truck with a tree logo, and the sound of chainsaws fills the air. Even with the hardhat and his back to me, I can pick Teddy out of the crew as they cut and haul a dead tree to the chipper. I back myself through the doors so I can watch him for as long as possible before clocking in and getting to work. The library isn’t busy at this time in the morning, and it’s easy to hear Teddy’s team working away. Around 10:30, the door opens and a few of the guys walk in. An older man asks me to point them to the washroom, and two of the three walk in the direction I gesture. The third guy stops in front of me, and when I look up I’m greeted by a face I have come to really appreciate.
“Surprise.” He smiles at me, those canines pressing into his lower lip. Teeth that have done zero damage to me but still hold my attention.
I want to pretend to be cross that he hadn’t told me, but my desire to do that is no match for the one that wants me to leap across the counter and plaster myself to him.
“Hi,” I say shyly. “Are you all done?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, still a couple more trees to fell. We’re just taking a break because our schedule allows it today.”
I quickly look around. I’m the only one working until eleven so I slip around the counter, grab his hand, and drag him to a random aisle, hidden from anyone else who may be inside.
“Is this a small-town version of the stacks?” he whispers, his hands moving to my hips and pulling me into him .
“You seem taller,” I observe, moving my hands to his neck.
He nods as he brings his lips to mine. “Boots,” he says against me, that cinnamon breath brushing lightly across my skin.
If one day someone told me I’d be making out in my workplace with the hot tree guy, I would have laughed. But I’m not laughing now as we play “how hard can someone be pushed against these shelves before they topple over?” Turns out, pretty hard, because they’re all bolted to the ground. It feels like flames are going to burst out of my body, and I wonder if Teddy can feel how hot my skin is as his lips trail down my throat.
“Goddamn, I’ve missed you,” he groans just before his lips are back on mine.
I want to say I missed him too, but the desire to kiss him harder wins out as his hands graze the sensitive skin at the base of my shirt. Chills race through me, and I pull on his neck so his lips fuse with mine.
The sound of his coworkers leaving the washroom has us jumping apart so fast we may have broken the sound barrier. As I fix my shirt I watch him casually lean against the shelf across from me, looking down at his feet, eyes closed, and doing deep breathing exercises. Those pants he’s got on may hide a lot now, but while we were plastered together everything was pretty obvious.
“Sorry about that,” he says when we hear the main door shut. “That was the definition of not slow.”
“I’m pretty sure I started it.” I smirk back at him.
“That’s true. You should be the one apologizing, I guess.” I don’t know if it’s the one eyebrow he has quirked, his grin, or simply the inexplicable need to touch him but whatever it is has me erasing the distance between us. I thread my fingers through the loops in his pants, and look up at him with the most demure expression I can manage.
“Teddy…” I coo.
“Mm-hmm?”
“I’m very sorry.”
He removes his hands from where they’d been holding him up on the shelf and runs them up both my arms until his fingers card through in my hair. Eyes locked on mine he lowers his face, and just when he’s about to kiss me he moves to my ear and whispers. “I’m not.” Then he drops his hands, straightens up, and walks away.
When he reaches the door, he looks back and smiles at me. “Thanks for making reading fun, LG.”
After he’s gone, I go back to the task he distracted me from and replay every second of today’s encounter. My mind keeps reminding me that this is new, take it slow. But my body is telling me the opposite, and right now it may be winning.